


Dance and insanity

by LinkedSoul



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dancetale, chara, dance, my headcanons about Chara and their past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:21:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7190900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkedSoul/pseuds/LinkedSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite darkness, madness, pain and violence, there was dance to pull them through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance and insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! =v= Chara is my favorite Undertale character, I just love them so much ! This is one of my first Undertale fanfictions, plus my first Dancetale fanfic (I just love that AU so much)  
> Enjoy !

## Insanity. 

Alone in the dark, alone outside, there they stood, in the middle of these golden flowers field. Throwing the knives, catching them. 

Habit. 

It was a habit. A knife in the air fell in their hand, caught without looking at it. No need to. Practice made the habit perfect. 

It wasn’t like they cared about being hurt, anyway. They were better dead than alive. 

Insanity.

Why were they living ? Why weren’t they leaving ? They were sitting in front of that door deep in their mind, that was locking up their feelings. Their heart. To protect them or get rid of them, that they didn’t know. 

Voices in their head, whispers and breathes. Darkness around, too dense, to deep. They were literally drowning in the night, swallowed up in their own sick and twisted mind. The voices were growing stronger. They used to ignore them, but sometimes it was just a burden too heavy for them to bear.

Feelings were a burden. Feelings were making them weak. They needed to get rid of them.

Big kids don’t cry.

Whoever cried was weak. Whoever was weak was good to be killed.

Kill or be killed. 

That world was just as mad as them.

They didn’t know a lot about what they liked or about what they hated. They knew they liked flowers, knives, the color green and being alone. They knew they hated humanity, themselves, their world and being alone.

They knew they were not normal, and that they had never been meant to be. It was like that. It was life. Life was a bitch. The world was a slut. They were a whore. But at least they knew it.

They thrown a knife in the air and jumped up, throwing another one. They threw their arm behind them as they landed, catching one knife, then twirled on one leg, catching up the other knife with their foot. Then they threw their weapons again. 

The voices were singing now. Their chant was making them forget everything for a second, so they kept doing their movements to keep them singing.

They spun on their tiptoes, a leg in the air holding a knife, the other weapon thrown, their arms extended like a bird trying to fly. They sent their knives in the sky again, spun, jumped, caught the knives in the midair and immediately threw them again, as disgusted to hold them.

The voices seemed pleased and kept singing. Their chant was covering the voice that haunted their head every second since they were born, poisoning themselves. That voice of a parent. Whispering along their own voice. 

_Trained to kill, trained to destroy, a war machine without any emotions or compassion. Don’t love, don’t like, don’t feel, you’re a tool, you were born to murder. The only goal in your life is destruction._

Frightening.

They twirled and twirled, cutting the air with their knives, their feet moving rapidly through the flowers. Their arms stabbed the wind around them. They were fighting an invisible enemy that only them could see, an enemy all around them, that only their movements could defeat. 

_You’ll destroy everything you’ll think you care about in your own twisted way, in the end. But you won’t even allow yourself to feel regret nor guilt because it would destroy you, and you can’t destroy yourself, can you ? I taught you to take care of yourself, to ignore and forget all these feelings, because you need to be operational to kill people for me, remember it ? Be a good boy and murder for me, little monster, that’s why you live. And don’t you dare rebelling in any way, or you’ll be punished._

Their own insanity. 

They threw the knives, took their head in their hands to forget the world around them and hear the chant of the voices better, then jumped, rolled, caught their weapons and got up again in a twirl, slicing the darkness around them. They were trained never to be exhausted, but they were putting so much energy in each move that they were already panting. But glad to pant. 

_I know you try to hurt yourself oh so often, little child, but you’ll never succeed in killing yourself because you can’t. I didn’t train you to take your own life, never. I taught you to protect it for me. Even if you’d better get rid of it as soon as possible, in the mort hurtful way possible. It’d make me suffer, and there’s nothing you want more than hurting me, right ? You and me, we can’t be brought apart. I’m your shadow, your hatred, your madness, your ruler, your tyrant. I hurt you but you don’t know how to hurt me, apart from letting your own feelings drown you to make yourself suffer. But it’s too much and you’re as frightened of me as of your own heart, that’s why you oh so rarely do that. You never hurt yourself emotionally because you’re already so damaged to might break._

They were singing with the voices. Burying their insanity beneath their own chant. They let a knife fall on the ground to pick it up when swinging their leg in the air and throw it again before spinning around quickly. They could hear the beating of their own heart. Somewhat they wanted to end these moves quickly by stabbing that pulsing organ, but somewhat they were enjoying what they were doing, and all the things they were enjoying, or they were destroying them, or they were desperately trying to protect them in their own mad and sick way no matter how twisted it could seem. 

I’m dancing, they suddenly thought, as the rain began to fall. I’m dancing and it’s making me feel better.

_You know what you’re good at, no need to do something else. You’re not a hero, you’re nothing at all. Just a drop in the ocean. You could be so much more, you could do so much more, but you’ll never save anyone and you know that, right ? No matter how hard you could try, when someone tries to approach you, they die because of you. You always kill them or hurt them. You somehow, in your own manner, tried to protect people, but always ended up wrecking them entirely, always ended up losing them by eradicating them. You hate people because they make you feel things and these things hurt, they hurt like hell, they hurt so much it drives you even more insane. That’s why you hate humanity. You know what you do isn’t supposed to be right, you saw the world, the real one, not the shiny one people see, and you saw all its madness, all its darkness and it’s what made you what you are. A monster. A monster in a monster’s world._

They were dancing as if the world was ending tomorrow. Dancing with knives. They had never danced before. They knew it wouldn’t last long. They liked to dance. As they had liked to take care of flowers. As they had liked to sing. As they had liked to bake. They had liked a few things, but all these things never lasted. When their sin was discovered, the sin of liking something, these things were broken apart. So they were enjoying this night under the rain, where they could hear the voices chanting and they could dance and free themselves from the chains of their mind.

They were feeling like a normal kid who takes care of a pet in secret. Because there was something no one had ever discovered yet, something they were protecting with all their strength, something that would also be destroyed sooner or later but that they just couldn’t let go off, no matter how hard would be the fall afterwards.

Their own sanity. 

What was left of it. The sane part of them, that could like things and try to be a little better. Buried and hidden deep, deep, deep down into their mind.

Throw a knife, spin, catch it with your feet, throw it again, jump, roll, turn, catch it again, throw the two knives and fall on your back to catch them back and jump in the air.

Again.

And again.

##  _Because it makes you feel_

_All the things you think you like, all the things you think you care about, all the things you might enjoy, I’ll take them one by one and break them all, if you disobey me. I don’t want the you that might have lived normally, I want the monster, the part of you that’s numb to emotions and that desire blood to fill their empty mind. You’re all alone, in this world. You’re a monster. And don’t you dare crying, because_

_Big kids don’t cry, Chara._

##  _Sane._


End file.
